My Kid
by TeamFreeWill94
Summary: Sam reads Dean's journal, a record of their life together from Dean's side, then gives his response. One-shot. Shameless brotherly love and fluff.


**Summary: Sam reads Dean's journal, a record of their life from Dean's side. Shameless brotherly love and fluff.**

**Setting: Season 8.**

**Warnings: Shameless fluff. Probably some AU. We honestly do not know too much about the boys' childhood or Sam's "firsts" but I'm sure we can assume Dean was present and possibly responsible for most of them. If not, well, he was in my head.**

**Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing. It all belongs to _Supernatural_ and everyone and everything associated with it. None of it is mine.**

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**My Kid**

I asked for you. I wanted a brother and anything else wasn't good enough. Mom and Dad offered to get a dog. I didn't want a dog. I wanted a brother.

I knew about you before Dad. Mom told me she was pregnant and I was the one to tell Dad. Well, I screamed it at him. You should've seen his face, Sammy. I knew then at three years old that I was a big brother. Soon I would have a little brother. I knew the baby was a boy. It was what I wanted so what else could it be?

I talked to you...a lot. Pretty sure I talked to you more than Mom and it was her you were inside. I wanted you to know me, know my voice, know that even pre-birth I would always be with you.

Mom and Dad had already named you by Mom's seventh month. It was no longer 'the baby'. You were now 'Sam', 'little brother', and 'Sammy'.

I was the first one to feel you move if you don't count Mom. You were inside her. She always felt you. I was laying on her, telling you a random story that made absolutely no sense. You apparently didn't like it because you kicked me in the face. It wasn't one of those 'butterfly' moves either. It was a full out kick and you nailed me right on the cheekbone. Mom laughed.

I was there when Mom went into labour. I should've been in school. It was a Monday after all but I was 'sick'. I knew somehow that you were coming and I wasn't going to miss anything.

After an argument—it was not a temper tantrum—I was allowed in the room. I stayed up at Mom's head, of course, but I was there. Hearing your first cry is one of the best memories of my life.

I was the first one to hold you. No, I'm serious. I held you before Dad and even before Mom. She told the nurse to give you to me once you were cleaned up. The nurse didn't want to and tried to argue. Never argue with Mary and John Winchester. I was then sitting in that semi-comfortable cushioned chair that was always in the corner and the nurse was carefully putting you in my arms. You stopped crying when you saw me.

I was the first one you saw. You saw me before Mom and Dad.

"You and me, Sammy," I had whispered, touching your cheek. That was the first time you turned into my touch.

I was the first one to feed you when we brought you home. Mom and Dad had fed you in the hospital but I was the first one to feed you at home. Mom got us settled on the couch and showed me how to do it. I managed to support you and feed you while stroking your cheek.

I could usually make you stop crying. All I had to do was look at you, smile at you, touch you. You were ridiculously easy to please then. You couldn't have held onto that?

I gave you your first piece of solid food. Mom thought it was time and I jumped on. I grabbed a box from the cupboard and poured some Lucky Charms onto your table on that high chair. Mom poured some milk. I dunked a marshmallow in the milk to make it a little softer and held it out. You stared at me and slowly leaned forward with your mouth open. Now you know why you _really_ like Lucky Charms.

I was there the first time you rolled over. You were in a mood and I was out of sight for too long.

I was there when you sat up for the first time. Apparently reaching for me while lying down wasn't good enough.

I heard you laugh for the first time. Hell, I made you laugh. Not sure how. I had flopped down on the floor next to you and you laughed.

I read to you each night. Until I could actually read I made up stories.

I was there the first time you crawled. You crawled across the blanket while we were outside and right into my lap.

Then Mom died. You had always been my responsibility but pulling you from that fire made that stronger. You were mine. After she died, I was the only one who could make you stop crying for the next two months. Dad became a hunter. You became even more mine. I took over caring for you. I didn't mind.

I taught you how to walk. I was there for your first steps. Dad wasn't. I saw you making the attempt and cheered. You took those stumbling baby steps and I couldn't help it. I picked you up, I spun you around. I was so beyond happy, beyond proud. It wasn't long after that I was chasing you everywhere.

I was the one that bathed you and fed you and dressed you. I put you to bed, I woke you up. I brushed your teeth and your hair. I played with you. I put you down for naps. I changed you. I took care of you when you were sick.

I was your first word. Dad wasn't there. I was attempting to do my letters for my school assignment. I wasn't giving you enough attention apparently.

"De!" you had shouted and I stared at you. "De!"

That was the most you could manage of my name but it was more than enough. A deaf man and a total moron would know what you meant. For two years I was 'De'.

I taught you to read and write. You were above your average level when you went to school. I registered you for school, sometimes with difficulties being that I was only four years older than you. I got you to and from school. I got you your supplies. I made your lunches. I protected you from bullies and encouraged your friendships.

I was the one you showed your assignments to and I was the one who gushed about how your artwork was better than Da Vinci's. I'm the one who helped you with your homework. I'm the one you showed your report cards to. I was the one who praised your straight A's.

I'm the one who taught you the finer details of our training. I'm the one that took away the nightmares especially after I told you about Mom and all the monsters.

I'm the one you gave the amulet to because I never lied to you. How things have changed, huh? That amulet was the best thing I've ever gotten, after you, of course. I'm a total ass for throwing it away. I'm sorry, Sam. I wish I could take it back.

I was the one you first told about college and I supported you. I didn't want to lose you one day but I knew I would make it worse if I didn't support you. Besides, I was so proud that you had the chance to go to college.

You showed me your scholarship and acceptance letter to Stanford first. I didn't want you to leave, I didn't want to lose you, but I was so damn proud. I was so happy for you. I made sure you knew I was okay with your decision because I knew Dad wouldn't be.

Then I watched you leave. I know you saw my heart breaking but I know you also saw my silent encouragement. I think that's why you managed to walk out and I was so proud of you for doing so.

I wasn't there to help you settle in. I wasn't the one to get your supplies. I wasn't the one to help you find your way around. I wasn't there to tell you on your first day that you couldn't do anything but great.

I missed you. I stopped by often and just watched you walk across campus.

I missed you and I was glad we were together but I never wanted it to be at this cost. I'm so sorry about Jess. I'm sorry I pulled you back into this life. I don't know if what happened had happened because I came to Stanford. Maybe Jess still would've died, maybe she'd be alive. I don't know and I'm sorry, but I'm not sorry I got my little brother back.

I never wanted you to go through what you did with Madison. It was times like those I was sure I should have never gone to Stanford. I did my best to help you through it. I don't know if I succeeded but I tried.

You're mine, Sammy, and I know you know that. You're not the only one that died in Cold Oak. I died in every way except physically. How could I possibly go on without you when you have always been my life? How could I live if my life was dead? It was inconceivable. It was impossible. I'm sorry for how much I hurt you with my deal but I will never apologize for getting you back. The only other option was for me to follow you and you would have accepted that less than my deal.

You were the only thing I had left when Dad died. In some ways, you've always been all I had. I'm okay with that. Less people to take my attention and protection from you.

Ruby. Demon blood. It was all so insane and I was so scared for you, scared I couldn't help you or protect you. It came out as anger instead and my memories of Hell didn't help. I wanted to help you and it was tearing me apart in ways even Hell couldn't that I couldn't seem to do anything. I'm sorry, Sammy.

I _was_ mad at you for the whole Apocalypse thing but I was madder at myself. Mad that I had been so focused on indulging my self-pity that I forgot I was a big brother. I forgot that we both lived without each other for four months even if my 'living' was as a torturer in Hell. I forgot that it was supposed to be "You and me, Sammy."

Then we made that _genius_ plan to have you say 'yes' to Lucifer and throw yourself in the Cage. I was terrified, Sam, terrified that it was apparently our only option. What kind of big brother was I that I couldn't come up with a plan that didn't involve letting my baby brother invite the Devil in and then throw himself in the Cage? I was terrified at how damn _proud_ I was of you.

Then you were gone. I had been there like I promised. Hadn't left you like I promised. I went after that to live an apple pie life like I promised. I did it because I promised and I had to pretend I was still capable of keeping my promises to you in spite of all our lies and issues. I liked Lisa and Ben, I did, but it's not what I wanted. It was one of those fantasies that are meant to remain a fantasy. You were gone, Sammy, which meant there was no life for me no matter where I was or who I was with.

Maybe people are right. Maybe our relationship is wildly unhealthy, codependent. Who the hell cares? You're my little brother but I'm not supposed to care about you, take care of you, worry about you, depend on you? What did other people know anyway? They don't know us. If they knew _why_ we had the relationship we do, if they knew I had basically raised you, would they still question our relationship?

When you came back, I felt myself come back to life. sure, we found out you had no soul and I was scared for you, but I could push it aside because you were here. I had you back, I had my baby brother back.

Screw it. I had my _kid_ back. Face it, Sammy, you've always been more than my brother. You've always been mine in every sense. You're my kid, Sam, mine.

Then we got your soul back and hid part of you behind a wall. I almost couldn't believe it but then you looked at me. You _looked_ at me with _that_ look. And I knew. I knew it was you, it was all you, Sammy. _Now _you were back, _now_ I had my kid back.

I watched you struggle with that damn wall. I felt the same as you. I know, how could I? I wanted to tear that wall down so I could stop watching you struggle with not knowing, struggle with the fear of what that wall was hiding. I also wanted to keep it up because I feared what the memories would do, feared they would kill you.

It was part relief and absolute fear when Cas smashed the wall. We could deal with the memories now but only if you survived. God, Sam. You have any idea how many times I've died inside because you have nearly left me? Additionally, you have any idea the overwhelming relief that takes over each and every time I see your eyes when I've been so sure I would never see them again?

You are the only reason I was able to get over Bobby.

We began to be brothers again after that and I couldn't believe it. We were talking to each other, leaning on each other. You eventually let me help with Lucifer. Do you know it brings such pride and happiness to me whenever we remind each other of Stone Number One, that _I_ am your Stone Number One?

Sammy, do you have _any_ idea just how much I love you?

To be honest, I even stopped being mad about you not looking for me really early. I understood why you didn't look for me while I was in Purgatory. I know what you thought. I know you thought I was dead and in Heaven and I know if it was the same situation in reverse, if it was you that had disappeared, I wouldn't have looked for you. Well, that's not true. I would have looked until I was absolutely sure you were in Heaven but I would not have tried to bring you back. Truthfully, I probably would have followed but I would not have brought you back if I thought you were happy and in Heaven.

These trials. They _will_ _not _be the end. You _will_ make it through this, you _will_ live. You're mine, Sammy. We're each other's happy ending so you _will_ make it.

I trust in you, I believe in you. I believe in your strength because it is from you that I get mine.

I've said it before. I can't do these trials for you but I can carry you and I will right to the end, then I will continue to carry you right through to our healthy happy ending.

You're my brother, Sammy, always have been, always will be. You're also my kid, Sammy, always have been, always will be.

You're mine, my kid, and, yeah, it's creepily possessive. As my kid, I refuse to bury you. No one should have to bury their kid.

We go together, Sammy, or we don't go.

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Sam put his pen down and pushed Dean's journal back to Dean's place at the table. He ignored the tears in his eyes, the tracks on his cheeks. He chewed a bite of his salad and watched as Dean returned. He made sure not to stare as he saw Dean read what he had written.

Dean looked up and waited until Sam was unable to keep looking away.

Their eyes met and Dean reached out, ran a hand through Sam's hair, and then rested his hand on the back of Sam's neck.

"Me and you, Sammy."

"You and me against the world."

With smiles they returned to their dinners, Dean's journal sitting openly on the table between them.

_I like that you're creepily possessive. I'm your brother, your kid, and it'll always be you and me. I love you, Dean_.

**The End**


End file.
